


In which Aramis is a werewolf and his friends find out

by Nathamuel



Series: In which Aramis is a werewolf [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunkenness, Fluff, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hangover, Kink Meme, M/M, Multi, Three Musketeers Kink Meme, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1620005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathamuel/pseuds/Nathamuel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dog huffed and Athos' mouth fell open. It was a big dog, bigger than any he'd seen around the streets of Paris before and his coat was clean and of a dark grey. On his forehead was a scar, barely visible through the thick fur. It was what you could call a handsome dog.<br/>------<br/>What it says on the tin. Aramis is a werewolf and one after another his friends find out about that fact.<br/>For the kink meme</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Athos finds out

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was the following, unfortunately I didn't keep very close to it:  
> "Had a weird dream. Thought I’d share.  
> Aramis is a werewolf. More Discworld than Harry Potter, as he has control of himself, sort of, doesn’t go around attacking people unless he really wants to. Mainly just spends the full moon asleep on his bed, in his room. Occasionally runs around Paris, sticking to the shadows. When they are travelling, loves running around the countryside, eating chickens.  
> Treville knows, and tries makes sure he gets the full moon off, but being the fair captain, Aramis’s shift is just moved not ignored – a double shift of night duties instead?  
> Porthos and Athos know, as do a select few. d’Artagnan does not, but the three drop constant small hints (‘animal magnetism’ comment for attracting ladies ‘time of the month’ comments etc) , and he is starting to notices small things which are off.  
> Maybe Treville sends them to get Aramis right after the night of a full moon, normally he gets left alone for a bit longer. The three have to deal with a not really with it Aramis who is still feeling the effects and stress from the change.  
> The dream really did borrow from discworld, as Aramis’s landlady was just like Mrs Cake (runs a boarding house for the supernatural, her daughter is a werewolf). And the Mrs Cake-a-like didn’t like Athos for some reason, but loved Porthos and let him through to wake up Aramis."
> 
> I pretty much only took the "Aramis is a werewolf ala Terry Pratchett" part and ran. >_>

Athos raised the bottle to his lips. He was past the point where he tasted the liquid he was drinking anymore. Head hazy and clouded he stumbled forward in search of his lodgings.  
The surrounding looked vaguely familiar and distantly he hoped that he was moving into the right direction, towards his bed instead of farther away. He had just enough dignity about him not to want to be found sleeping in the gutter come morning. (The other side of him didn’t care.)

The ground rabidly moved towards his face when his foot caught on nothing and he fell, cursing when he scratched his palms open when he caught himself upon them. The bottle he'd been holding in his hand rolled away with a clinking noise and for a moment Athos stayed on his hands and knees as bile threatened to rise in his throat. Suddenly he was glad that it was night and no one but a few drunken stragglers were out and about, no one who could see him like this. 

Athos squeezed his eyes shut against the vertigo and heaved, startling when his side was nudged out of the blue.

In a flash his hand was on the hilt of his sword. Tonight would not be the night he would let himself be robbed so easily, although a voice he could only ignore while drunk whispered that he would deserve it, would deserve the pain and humiliation and death. He looked up, but what he saw made him freeze. A dog's snout was inches from his face and he stared wide-eyed into dark brown eyes that looked strangely familiar. Aramis' eyes had the exact same color. 

The dog huffed and Athos' mouth fell open. It was a big dog, bigger than any he'd seen around the streets of Paris before and his coat was clean and of a dark grey. On his forehead was a scar, barely visible through the thick fur. It was what you could call a handsome dog.

Athos wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or curse or, god forbid, laugh so he did neither of these things. Instead he slowly got to his feet under the dog's watchful and, his drunken mind must've been playing tricks on him, approving look. For another moment he stared uncomprehending down at the strange and seemingly friendly creature that didn't seem to mean him any harm. It simply sat at his feet and wagged its tail, although Athos had a feeling that it only did that because it was expected of it. 

Strange. Dogs had always somewhat disliked him, but not this one.

Athos shrugged to himself and unsteadily resumed his way only to be stopped again by a tug on his jacket. He looked down and saw the dog's snout closed around a corner of the leather, looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

"What?" Athos slurred, feeling dumb and slow and drunk. He missed his bottle. Where had it gone? The memories of his past were threatening to close in again. For a moment he entertained the thought of just hitting the dog over the head and be done with it, but that might’ve made the animal lose its harmless behavior. Another light tug brought him to himself again and he realized through the alcoholic stupor that he must've drifted off a little.

"What do you want? Shoo." he mumbled and made a gesture somewhat sloppily, hoping it would be enough to make it go away. For god's sake he was making a fool of himself. A drunk arguing with a dog in the middle of a street at night in Paris.

The dog seemed to roll its eyes at him, which was impossible. 

Another nudge and belatedly he noted that it took care not to damage his clothes, trapped between its sharp fangs as it was and that the dog was trying to make him turn around.

Athos turned around and the dog let go of his clothes to butt his head into his back, making him stumble a step forward. He cursed it, but because there was nothing better to do and Athos felt like he was lost anyway, both figuratively and literally, he resumed his unsteady way forward, the dog at his side.

His head hurt. His lids kept dropping and the alcohol in his bloodstream made him nauseous. Occasionally the dog would tug at his clothes, ever careful not to damage them or nick the skin underneath which seemed like a strange thing for a dog to be careful about, or it would nudge him again, a gentle press into his side.

Unerringly it led Athos forward and except for once where a chicken crossed their path, the dog stayed silent and relaxed. Upon seeing the chicken it tensed, growling at the bird and making a step forward before it seemed to think better of it and returned to Athos' side, letting out a little mourning whine that puzzled Athos. 

"You don't have to stay." Athos mumbled, feeling guilty for no reason all of a sudden. "I'm alright."  
The dog looked at him like it was telling him to stop being stupid, which made Athos' head hurt all the more, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was apparently escorted by some strange dog. 

It was only when he almost walked into the door of the house he was staying in did Athos realize that it had lead him straight home.

He fumbled with the door and let himself in and soon collapsed on the bed under the dog's disapproving look. It really had followed him in, the stupid thing. Athos flapped his hand at it, one booted foot still on the floor but it didn't budge. Instead it came closer and pulled him upright by the lapel of his shirt. Its snout butted into his chest, making him flail back a little. Then it snapped at his boots.

"Enough." Athos growled but nonetheless bend to unlace his boot, nearly toppling over again when that made the room spin. After a while he managed to unlace both boots and let the dog pull them off his feet when it looked like the dog would insist.

"You're a strange dog." Athos told it when he fell into bed again but his eyes closed already on their own accord before it could answer. Athos snorted to himself. Maybe he'd finally succumbed to madness after all. The dog wouldn't be able to answer him. It was an animal.

Athos squinted his eyes open when he felt movement travelling up his body and made a surprised noise that stopped the dog in its tracks. It glanced at him out of the corner of its eyes, in the process of pulling a blanket over him with the fabric trapped between its teeth.

"Very strange." Athos said and unceremoniously he slept.

 

The morning sun shining in through his window made Athos groan in pain. It felt like his head was being split in two and he covered his face with a hand in the hopes of making it stop. It didn't. Nonetheless he pushed himself up with another pained groan, force of will the only thing keeping him from curling up again to die.

"Could you possibly wake up a little less loudly." a voice complained which made Athos shoot upwards in bed, hand going to the hilt of his sword before the room spun and tilted dangerously to the side. 

Hands grabbed his shoulders before Athos could fall, a shadow blocking out the unforgiving light and it was only the realization of who was in front of him that made Athos stop trying to pull the sword from its sheath. Then he stared.

"Aramis?" he asked slowly. 

"Yes, my friend." Aramis said and let go of Athos' shoulders but remained in front of him.

"Why are you naked in my room?" Athos asked and was privy to the rare experience that was Aramis being uncomfortable and at a loss of what to say. The man shifted from foot to foot. He looked like he wanted to put his hands in front of his groin, but knew that it would only draw Athos’ eyes to that part. 

Athos was rather sure that nothing had happened between them had happened in the night, since he himself was still fully clothed except for his boots. His eyes trailed up to his brother's face, studiously not looking at any other part of Aramis' body so close to his. It did strange things to certain parts of his anatomy. His gaze caught on Aramis' wide eyes and then on the scar on his forehead.

He could remember waking up close to dawn and seeing the dog curled up at the doorstep, like a living barrier that kept Athos in his room and everything else outside.

"You're the dog from the last night." Athos said calmly, unsure where that realization had come from, but certain of its truth now that he had spoken it aloud. Aramis' face closed off in a way that Athos had only seen him do when Savoy was mentioned. His chest tightened and he wanted to be sick, either from the residue alcohol in his blood or for having put that look into Aramis’ eyes.

"Is it true?" Athos asked and for a long moment none of them moved while they stared silently at one another. Finally Aramis' let out a sigh and averted his eyes, sliding a hand through his hair while he seemed to get his bearing.

"Yes," he said. "and wolf, if you please." he looked sidelong at Athos carefully, gauging his reaction. 

"You're a mother hen no matter what you look like." Athos told him drily, watching some of the tension leave Aramis and relaxing when the man laughed beautifully. 

"Would you mind getting dressed now?" 

(And that was how Aramis wore Athos' clothes for a whole day.)


	2. In which Porthos finds out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porthos cursed under his breath when he saw the group of Red Guards waiting oh so casually ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter. Sorry it took me so long. :(

Porthos cursed under his breath when he saw the group of Red Guards waiting oh so casually ahead. That undoubtedly meant trouble. Especially since he was alone and the streets were empty of any people. He was not fool enough to think that their presence on his path home was mere coincident.

As to why his friends weren't with him. Aramis had excused himself early, before the sun had even started to set as he was prone to do once a month. Maybe it was a religious thing, Porthos thought to himself even as a different possibility tickled at the edges of his mind, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Sometimes Aramis behaved a little strangely, but Porthos didn't mind.   
Meanwhile Athos had stayed with him at first, when they had been drinking at the tavern, but then had proceeded to look a little too deeply into the bottle of wine, drinking with the stubbornness that meant he wanted to forget the past he never talked about. When it had become apparent that he would not be able to stand and walk unassisted Porthos had seen him safely home. 

And now he was in trouble and on top of that, _on his own_.

But Porthos was not a man to be scared easily, not after a youth in the Court of Miracles, so he walked on anyway, letting his hands hang loosely at his sides and itching to reach for his sword. He tried to look relaxed, non-threateningly. The odds were not in his favor tonight and by experience he knew what would happen next.

When he came closer his hands rose to the hilt of his sword on their own accord as the men, six of them, stepped forward and cut off his way. Porthos yearned for a fight, but he was hopelessly outnumbered. Nevertheless he would not go down without putting up resistance. His pride dictated if of him, if nothing else.

"A musketeer all alone at night. Where are your friends?" one of the men called to him and the others grinned. Idiots! Porthos held his tongue, waiting.

"They're probably too busy to help a rat like you. I've heard one is a drunk and the other is a whore." another quipped in and Porthos growled. He stepped forward. No one insulted his friends! 

"Maybe we should pay them a visit some time." yet another one leered and Porthos didn't, _couldn't_ , hold himself back this time. Aramis would tease him about it no doubt, his short temper, if he survived the night. The guardsmen's swords clashed against his. Porthos parried and dodged the attacks raining down on him and soon enough one of them lay wounded on the ground, which made the others furious and, Porthos was pleased to note, uncomfortable. They backed up nervously. He graced them with his best feral grin.

They seemed to have anticipated less trouble taking him down. Oh, they had underestimated him, but the moment of uncertainty passed all too soon and they were on him again, with Porthos doing his best to keep them at bay and his own hide uninjured.

Porthos took pride in the fact how long he held his own but in the end he felt himself tire. Forced to retreat with the guards pressing down on him he stumbled. His lips were pressed into a thin line, doggedly defending himself. 

He would die here tonight, it seemed, all alone. He wished his friends were with him.

Just as Porthos thought all to be lost, as a blade swept towards an opening in his guard a threatening growl sounded, almost swallowed by the noises of their fighting, but Porthos, hardened senses, heightened through countless battles, heard it. He had no time to look around to locate where and what had made such a sound, but he didn't have to wonder for long since suddenly one of the Red Guards, the one who would have struck him down, was ripped from the line of attackers, screaming in pain as a large dog buried sharp fangs into the meat of his leg and dragged him away. 

A shout of alarm escaped Porthos, because on second glance it proved not to be a dog at all but a wolf. How one of those had found its way into Paris eluded him, but Porthos had no time to muse on it anyway since the Red Guards screamed, one half of them turning on the wolf, the other, a little slower on the uptake perhaps, keeping Porthos engaged in battle. 

Cut down in numbers Porthos had less trouble fending them off and soon enough they were incapacitated. He turned towards the rest, taking in the scene in front of him with an expert glance. A glance at the wolf showed it to be fixated on the guards, although it caught Porthos' gaze for just a moment with its own, a keen intelligence in his eyes that startled Porthos. Then the wolf howled in pain, the blade of a sword sank a couple of inches into his side and was yanked out again. Injured it nonetheless moved in front of Porthos in what he was puzzled to note was a protective gesture. An unnecessary one at that since Porthos was not the one being attacked anymore.

Porthos wasn't sure what compelled him to do what he did next, but as the blade arched again towards _his_ wolf he leaped forward and disarmed the last opponent who cried out "Devils!" and turned and fled, leaving his injured comrades behind and Porthos shouting insults at his back. Around him lay the felled men, some of them with injuries so vicious they did not look like they would survive the night. Better leave quickly before someone could drag Porthos in front of a judge. 

He turned towards the wolf and startled.  
It was lying on the ground, a puddle of blood slowly forming around its body. In the heat of battle and the surprise of this unlikely ally he had not noticed how deep the wound must have gone. Soft hurt noises escaped the wolf and Porthos didn't muse on why he knelt down beside the beast and put a hand on its flank. Brown eyes turned to regard him. It was breathing raggedly.  
"Stupid dog." Porthos sad, voice inexplicably choked. The wolf raised his head and licked his hand.   
Porthos placed his hands under its body and pulled it up into his arms and then he went home before anyone else could come across the Red Guards. 

In his quarters, fortunately observed by no one, he laid the wolf down upon his bed. Its eyes were closed but its breath sounded a little less ragged already. Now that the adrenalin was slowly fading Porthos had no idea what to do. Aramis was the better medic of their group and he wasn't sure about the practicality of sewing up a wolf. He didn't need a pet, no matter how useful a predator like that might prove.

The wolf whined and Porthos knelt beside it, checking the wound. Maybe it was his imagination that made it look less deep than before. Outside, the sky changed colour preceding dawn. Porthos carefully reached for the wolf's head. It butted against his hand and he petted it until it lost unconsciousness again.

When he turned away to finally get needle and thread weak sunlight began filtering in through the window and when he returned to the bed he froze, the tools with which he had wanted to help the wolf falling from his suddenly limp fingers. 

Aramis' eyes were closed, face pale from blood loss as he lay on Porthos' bed, naked as the day he had been born. The wound in his shoulder and the cut across his chest were bleeding sluggishly but Porthos could see the blood flow lessen.

Belatedly he noted that his mouth hung open. On second thought he realized that he wasn't as surprised as he should be. 

He moved to Aramis' side and checked the wounds. Now he knew not to stitch them up, lest they would scar when their healing process was interrupted by thread. Instead he sat down by Aramis' head and carded his fingers through his unruly hair until his eyes opened and he blinked sluggishly up at him with a puzzled look on his face.

"You're not surprised." Aramis stated quietly. "Doesn't anything surprise anyone around here anymore?" Aramis muttered after another moment, when Porthos only gave him his best unimpressed stare.

"Ok. A little surprised maybe." Porthos admitted after a while, having mused over his emotions on the matter. "Why didn't you tell me?" It was Aramis' turn to look away. "And why does Athos know about it?" Porthos asked exasperated. 

"It was an accident." _Just like you finding out this way._ was left unsaid and Porthos really looked at Aramis. The smile on his face looked strained and he was tense, muscles coiled tight. He looking like a man ready to bolt.  
Porthos rubbed a hand heavily over his face. Aramis' eyed the window.

"Don't even think about it." Porthos warned him and rubbed at his eyes. His friend was still there, shoulders hunched and sitting on his bed. Something in Porthos' chest hurt to see him making himself so small, like he was expecting Porthos to hurt him. Porthos fished for something to say.

"You didn't ask me why I was only a little surprised." he stated and Aramis' brow wrinkled in confusion. 

"You didn't try to stitch me up." Aramis said, fingers sliding over the skin close to the wounds. 

"I know some werewolves in the Court of Miracles." Porthos explained. "I should have realized it sooner." he added. 

"You're really not freaking out?" Aramis asked and moved to stand, which made Porthos suddenly aware of all the naked skin. Porthos tried not to let his gaze linger on all the naked skin close enough to touch. 

"No. Now tell me the story about how Athos found out." he demanded easily.


	3. In which d'Artagnan finds out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You licked me." d'Artagnan said accusingly and Aramis shrugged with a grin.

d'Artagnan would never admit that he screamed like a girl when he opened the door to Aramis' quarters one evening and saw a big wolf lying on his bed. He had only wanted to invite the other man out for a drink with Porthos and Athos. This wasn't what he had expected. Fortunately no one had been around when he made that surprised sound.

The wolf had raised its head when d'Artagnan had opened the door and a scream (a quite manly one) had escaped him and a second later he'd slammed the door shut again. 

He stared with wide eyes at the wooden surface. Then he glanced to both sides to see if anyone had noticed. No one was around, no overly curious neighbor was glancing out through their door. His heart beat madly in his chest, but still he slid the door open a gap and looked inside again. The wolf hadn't moved an inch, still lying on Aramis' bed on top of the bedding. It was looking at him, ears turned in his direction, and d'Artagnan closed the door again. What the hell?

For a moment he waited if anything would happen. On the other side of the door was silence. Nothing changed. It was a pretty wolf, which didn't make it any less dangerous. In Gascony there had been wolves, too, and everyone had been scared of them. Myth and legends had surrounded them which hadn't kept them from being hunted.

Carefully d'Artagnan opened the door a third time, just to come face to face with the wolf that had seemed to want to investigate what all the ruckus was about. d'Artagnan let out a shout and slammed the door shut for the last time. 

Then he immediately went looking for Porthos and Athos. They would hopefully know what to do. What if Aramis had been eaten by that animal. It had looked friendly enough, d'Artagnan admitted, but still, he'd been bitten by friendly looking animals before and last time he had checked wolves were not meant to be pets, not even in Paris, and since when had Aramis a pet anyway?

Something wasn't right.

 

After a short search he found Athos and Porthos in the tavern they had wanted to meet at before d'Artagnan had gone in search for Aramis.

"Did you see a ghost?" Porthos said with a grin when d'Artagnan arrived. Athos looked at him critically from under the brim of his hat.

For a moment d'Artagnan flailed with his hands in the direction where he hoped Aramis' quarters lay. Usually he was more eloquent that this. Porthos looked at him like he'd gone mad, d'Artagnan couldn't blame him.

"There is a wolf in Aramis' bed." he finally blurted out after he could find no saner way to put it. His comrades shared a look at that which he couldn't decipher. Then they stared silently down into their mugs.

"You don't look surprised." d'Artagnan said slowly. "Why aren't you surprised? Is keeping a wolf in their homes a trend in Paris I didn't know of, yet?"

Porthos looked like he wanted to say something but Athos silenced him with a cool look.

"What aren't you telling me? Where is Aramis?" d'Artagnan asked, hurt that they didn't seem to trust him with this.

"Why were you looking for Aramis?" Athos asked him in the quiet way he had, taking a sip from his wine.

"I wanted to invite him to a drink. Don't you find it strange that he left so quickly this morning?" d'Artagnan said. He had noticed Aramis leaving some days only to return the next day, but he had put it down to him wanting to visit his mistress, although it had been a little too regularly to be that. Once a month he disappeared, to be exact and sometimes one or both of the others disappeared with him. It seemed rather mysterious to d'Artagnan. 

"It's the time of month again." Porthos said.

"What do you mean?" d'Artagnan asked. "What time of month? He's not a woman."

Porthos laughed and even Athos didn't hide a smile. "Once a month he'd rather be alone." Porthos clarified.

"You mean he's at one of his mistresses? Wouldn't it be too suspicious to visit her so regularly?" d'Artagnan carefully didn't ask why one or both of them were required to go with Aramis to that mysterious mistress. He was pretty sure that it was no one he knew. 

A strange expression passed over his friends faces and at once they took a drink. That was a peculiar reaction, d'Artagnan decided.

"God, no!" Porthos said with feeling. "It's just that he's kind of has a hairy problem and is taking care of it."

d'Artagnan's brow furrowed in confusion and Athos turned his eyes to the ceiling. "So once a month he... shaves?"

At that, Porthos broke into laughter, almost spilling his drink over himself while Athos rolled his eyes with a smile on his face, looking back down into his glass.

"You still haven't told me what the wolf in Aramis' quarters is all about. I take it he's the hairy problem? Is it a mistress' pet?" d'Artagnan said, changing the subject back to what he'd originally asked.

His two comrades shared a look. Athos sighed. "Porthos, I think we're making the young Gascon's confusion worse." Porthos shrugged.

"Yes, you are." d'Artagnan agreed and again Athos and Porthos held a whole conversation with their eyes and brows until finally Athos looked at him.

"What we will show you, but must promise never to tell anyone, not even Madame Bonaxcieu."

"Alright. I promise." d'Artagnan agreed easily and they went back to Aramis' quarters. Depending on what the secret was about he would or wouldn't tell Constance. He didn't want to go looking for new quarters _again_.

 

The wolf raised its head from where he was still reclining on the bed. It had been sleeping, d'Artagnan realized when it showed all its fangs in a wide yawn. Or maybe it was threatening him. 

Then it blinked at him and looked in turn at the two men that accompanied him. It yipped questioningly and d'Artagnan had a feeling that he hadn't been addressed but rather Athos had, who answered.

"It's time he knows. He's one of us now and you can't keep it secret forever."

The wolf curled its lips, showing his teeth in displeasure.

"Just remember how Porthos and I found out." Athos said. d'Artagnan's brows rose on their own accord while Porthos sighed.

The wolf huffed.

"Athos is right and you know it." Porthos said and that was the whole discussion. d'Artagnan couldn't believe it when the dog finally rolled its eyes and nodded.

Porthos and Athos both took him by an elbow each and together they moved until d'Artagnan stood in front of the bed and, in extension, in front of the wolf. The wolf sat up. Its head was level with d'Artagnan's collarbone. It was a rather large wolf. Then it rose up on its hind legs and put his front paws on his shoulders. D'Artagnan stood as if frozen.

Porthos made a flourish. "May I introduce Aramis to you again?"

"You're kidding, right?" d'Artagnan said, glancing to the side without moving the rest of his body.

The wolf very slowly and deliberately licked d'Artagnan's face, making him sputter and shake it off to swipe at his wet face. It was giving him a wolfish grin, tongue lolling out of its mouth.

"No way." d'Artagnan said again. "This is a wolf. Aramis is human." he said just to clarify.

The looks that Porthos and Athos exchanged were starting to get on d'Artagnan's nerves and now it seemed to include the wolf as well.

Porthos laid a hand on its head. The wolf leaned into the touch with a little happy yowl. "Aramis is a werewolf." he said simply.

"What?" d'Artagnan asked, eloquently.

"A werewolf is -"

"I know what a werewolf is." d'Aragnan interrupted him. Slowly he was feeling angry. Were they trying to ridicule him? "They're just stories!" he said hotly and looked at the wolf when it flinched and hung its head. 

Porthos sat down on the bed and hugged the wolf to his chest which whined softly and leaned its head on Porthos' shoulder. Athos rested a hand on its head and scratched behind its ears.

"You could still show him." he addressed the wolf. If d'Artagnan didn't know better he would have to say that the wolf tensed at that.

d'Artagnan threw his arms wide. "Yes, please show me how a wolf turns into a human." he said, sarcastically.

After a moment of seemingly indecision the wolf gracefully jumped to the floor and disappeared behind a sort of dividing screen that stood at the end of the bed.

D'Artagnan flinched, as did his comrades, when there was a wet sound, followed by scrunching and noises that sounded like bones were being broken. His friends stopped him when he moved to investigate. Silence fell after a last pained human sounding sigh. Then Aramis stepped into the room from behind the screen.

"That is impossible." d'Artagnan breathed out. The hands of Porthos and Athos fell away, but he could still feel them standing behind him.

"As you can see, it isn't." Aramis disagreed. He was naked.

"Where are your clothes?" d'Artagnan asked and Aramis grinned in answer and scratched the back of his head.

"He doesn't have any when he changes back into his human form." Porthos answered for him. They were all watching him warily. If they were so calm about this, so would he, he decided. He wondered if any of the hunted wolves in Gascony had been werewolves. If they had all been as peaceful as Aramis?

"You licked me." d'Artagnan said accusingly and Aramis shrugged with a grin. 

A thought occurred to him. "What do you do when you change somewhere in the streets?"

Aramis laid an arm around his shoulder and laughed when d'Artagnan didn't flinch away from either his nakedness or his nearness. "That is a story for another time my young gascon friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last part of this particular installment but I will return to this series. I've got a porny sequel, set between chapter 2 and 3 of this story and a Five times someone had to bring Aramis some clothes - thingy planned. :)  
> Yeah, I know, it's probably not that realistic how freaking chill they all were. xD

**Author's Note:**

> How to write drunk!Athos. I imagine him to be much more depressed as a drunk (see episode 1.03), but somehow it didn't really work out...  
> Next will be Porthos' turn. There are two other ficlets planned for this as well, hence why this is labeled as a series. :)


End file.
